Oh, Caroline
by jayjaybee
Summary: Before the first series - the very beginnings of Kate and Caroline's friendship. One-shot (for now at least).


Kate taps on the door of the caretaker's den where - his attention split between watching the snooker on the telly and filling the pipe that he knows he's not meant to smoke (at all, really, but certainly not in work) - he has been waiting for her and the bright smile she brings every week as she comes to let him know choir practice is over and the kids are gone so he can lock up the building for the night. Grumbling slightly though goodnaturedly, he gets up from his seat and leads her through the building, checking as he goes that doors are locked and lights are off, before seeing her to the side door. As he does every week, he holds the door open for her, then follows her out, and as she heads off home he takes the opportunity to stand outside a while and smoke.

Kate's fairly sure that when she's gone, he goes back in, still smoking his pipe, and she thinks it's sweet and somehow old fashioned, but she's not sure Dr. Elliot would approve.

Oh, Caroline.

Kate halfheartedly chastises herself as she follows the path round the building to the staff carpark. Thinking of Caroline will do her no good. This she knows. But - oh - Caroline. She's got it bad, Kate knows she has. And it's futile, she knows that too. A crush on a married woman. A married straight woman. And her colleague. Her boss, actually. Futile, pointless, ridiculous, and yet - oh, Caroline...Kate's whole day is dominated by thoughts of her, and she can't help it, really she can't, when Caroline's everywhere around her. There's Caroline's heels, tapping out a rhythm on the wooden floors as she patrols the school; Caroline's scent, hanging in the air, showing where she's been; Caroline's voice, echoing in the hallways; glimpses of Caroline, here, there, everywhere; Caroline, in everything she does, magnificent.

Magnificent.

It does her no good, Kate knows, but she can't help herself. She thinks back to the last time she saw Caroline, earlier that evening. It's become a little routine that, each Tuesday, just as she's leaving, the Head'll pop her head round the door of the rehearsal room to cast an eye over the school choir, to remind them to be on their best behaviour. No reflection on Kate's management of them, Caroline had said, early on. It wasn't that she didn't trust her to keep order, certainly not that - but the last choir master had had trouble and there'd been some awkward incidents - and so she'd got into the habit and she hoped Kate didn't mind?

Kate didn't mind. Not at all.

It's a moment that she's come to depend on, and - however hard she tries to focus on work - she finds herself, every Tuesday listening out for that tell-tale approaching click-sclick click-sclick of heels on parquet floor, and - despite herself - feels her heart starting to race, her palms to sweat, and her brain to malfunction. Those heels - Kate sometimes grins to herself - testify to just how long it is since Caroline was actually in a classroom on a regular basis, because you can't wear shoes like that when you're chasing the rabble, but for all their impracticality, Kate often finds herself marveling at them.

And then, when Caroline pops her head round the door of the rehearsal room, and surveys the scene, glaring balefully at potential miscreants and smiling encouragingly at the rest, she shares a look - sometimes businesslike and sometimes harried, but often friendly and occasionally even playful - with Kate. Kate often finds herself marveling at that, too.

Tonight, though, there was something different in that look, Kate thinks now. It was as if Caroline wasn't even looking. As if she was going through the motions. Kate feels a pang of concern, and a sadness of a kind, because whatever's wrong with Caroline, she isn't - will never be - the one Caroline turns to. She's just a colleague to Caroline. A friendly colleague, perhaps, but that's all.

Futile, this crush is, Kate knows. Silly and foolish.

But though she knows it will do her no good, as she crosses the carpark her eyes flick - by habit - across to where Caroline's 4x4 normally is, though she knows Caroline left after coming into choir practice -

Caroline's car's still there.

Kate crosses over to her own car, opens the boot and drops in her bag, all the time her gaze returning to the car that should have left over an hour ago. And then she sees a movement, she thinks. Someone's in the car. Or is it just the streetlight reflecting off the window?

She looks again. There _is_ someone in the car.

Caroline?

Kate's not sure.

She crosses the carpark, and as she gets nearer, she can make out the outline of a person. It's definitely Caroline - that glorious blonde hair a giveaway sign - but she's sitting with her head in her hands. Kate doesn't think she's ever seen her like that.

She taps on the window, quietly.

Caroline doesn't move, so Kate tries again, with more force this time.

As if she's been deep underwater, Caroline surfaces, and turns, looking at her blindly for a moment and then, as she emerges from the depths, her eyes focus. She blinks, and makes as if to speak but no words come out.

Kate gestures, and after a moment or two, Caroline understands and winds down the window.

"Caroline? What are you - are you - "

"Kate," Caroline says, pleasantly, professionally. And then, a moment or two, and her face suddenly breaks. "John's - John's left me."

"Oh, Caroline."


End file.
